


The Dillon Community Holiday Debacle

by Minna Leigh (minnaleigh)



Category: Friday Night Lights (tv)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnaleigh/pseuds/Minna%20Leigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The town of Dillon tries to be inclusive at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dillon Community Holiday Debacle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luzdeestrellas](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=luzdeestrellas).



> Huge thanks to Jae Gecko for the narrator suggestion that saved the story and to both Jae and Dafna Greer for beta.

It was, more or less, all Waverly's fault. She'd never admit it, of course, because she was just being sarcastic and had no intention of making a serious suggestion. But she should have known better than to expect anyone on the committee to recognize that.

It started a couple of months ago when the planning for the annual Dillon Community Christmas Dinner was getting underway. It's the best event all year. The timing is perfect, coming immediately after State. The tree is decorated all in blue, white, and gold, the head coach is always Santa, the Panther cheerleaders are Santa's elves and the players toss brand new footballs to all the little boys. It'd be a pity if this year's problems destroyed the tradition.

The first meeting of the 2006 committee was supposed to have happened three days earlier. If it had, Waverly wouldn't have been walking through the church at the start of the meeting. And so, to be fair, Reverend Locke's food poisoning also played a part in what happened. Reverend Locke _did_ eat the suspect krab salad, though, and the meeting _was_ postponed, and Waverly _did_ walk past the meeting.

If she'd put on sneakers that morning, perhaps it all could have been avoided as well. But, no, again, you can see where Waverly was to blame, because she was meeting Smash and we all know how Smash really appreciates a pair of nice-looking legs, so she was wearing heels. In sneakers Waverly could have walked past the meeting unnoticed but, thanks to Smash, Waverly's footsteps echoed down the hall and drew the attention of Mayor Rodell.

"It's just lovely to have an event that everyone in Dillon enjoys." When Mayor Rodell heard the footsteps, she looked over at the open door and saw Waverly. "As hard as it is to believe, not everyone in this town is a Panther fan, are they, Waverly?"

Waverly halted in the doorway. "Yes. Even in Dillon there are one or two people who can recognize the wide, beautiful world outside the sport of football," she said.

"And that is part of the magic of Christmas," said the mayor. "Even the anti-football crowd joins in the celebration!"

One of Waverly's eyebrows rose and she let a little snort out through her nose. "Yes, it's a wonderfully inclusive event. I'm sure all the non-Christians in town appreciate having their tax dollars spent on what is, essentially, a religious celebration where we all pretend Christmas is the only December holiday!"

See? It was all Waverly's fault.

Things might have stopped right there, though, if the mayor hadn't been thinking about re-election and about the votes of "all the non-Christians in town". If she'd known that night that the Panthers would end up winning State, she might felt more confident about winning re-election, but, you have to understand that at the time of that first meeting, the Panthers making it into the playoffs was looking pretty damn iffy. So I guess, technically, the blame has to be shared with whoever left the krab salad out on the counter, Smash and his obsession with the female body, the mayor's re-election hopes, and the inconsistent season the Panthers were having. Oh, and wikipedia wasn't exactly blameless in the matter either.

At first it seemed like inclusiveness was going to be a snap. Clip art easily supplied a menorah to stick between the Christmas tree and Santa on the opposite side of the ads from the Nativity scene and everyone agreed to use the Kwanzaa-based color scheme of red, green, and black. The committee was particularly pleased that the ads looked almost exactly the same as always and nobody really missed the snowflake that was deleted to make room for the menorah--it never snowed in Dillon anyway!

The first bump in the road came with the suggestion to change the name of the event from the Dillon Community Christmas Dinner to the Dillon Community Holiday Dinner. The debate lasted for three meetings and led to the breaking of an engagement and the end of at least one life-long friendship. The entire thing could have been dropped right there-- _would_ , in fact, have been dropped right there except for Waverly.

One Sunday during the social hour after church, the potential name change for the Community Dinner was under heated discussion in all corners of the room. Waverly and Smash stood off to one side, eating peanut butter marshmallow squares and talking.

"Holiday dinner? Are they kiddin'?" Smash asked Waverly.

"I know, right? The dinner is on _Christmas_ Eve. There's a tree with an angel on top and Santa and elves and ministers saying grace! Who do they think they're kidding? It's absolutely..." Waverly's voice trailed off as she realized Smash was looking at her like she was crazy. "That's not what you meant, is it?"

"Nah, Wav, the Smash thinks it should be called the Christmas dinner because it's always been a Christmas dinner and there's no need to change things all around just 'cause there's a couple of people who don't like Christmas. We don't show up in the middle of whatever day they celebrate and tell 'em they got to change the name, do we?"

"That is so not the point!" Waverly's voice started to rise. Smash started to back away from her into the center of the room. Still arguing with him, Waverly followed after him.

What Waverly didn't know--what nobody in the room knew yet except for Mrs. Williams and even she didn't realize the significance--was that Sara Walker's great-aunt down in Austin had broken her hip two days before and Sara's mother had gone to Austin to help her out. Under her choir robe, Sara had been wearing an outfit no mother would have allowed within a mile of any church. When Sara, minus the choir robe, entered the room, silence descended. The energetic silence that comes right before an explosion of outraged whispers.

It was in the midst of that silence that Waverly's voice rang out, "It doesn't matter if they change the name to Holiday Dinner--nobody's going to call it that anyway!"

And that decided it: the dinner was officially to be known as the Dillon Community Holiday Dinner. Everyone who'd been against changing the name continued to call it the Christmas dinner while everyone else called it the Dillon Community Christ- Holiday Dinner. Thanks to Waverly and Sara Walker's great-aunt's tequila drinking, the last chance to stop the madness had passed.

The actual dinner started off relatively smoothly. There were some occasional problems but nothing too dire. Jerry Bennett wasn't all that happy, of course, but that was an isolated incident.

Jerry and his wife were sitting at a table with some of his co-workers from the DMV. Jerry tugged at the too-tight collar on his dress shirt. The volunteer server set plates down in front of them.

"Happy Holidays?" She made it sound like a question. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

Jerry looked down at his plate, filled with turkey, mashed potatoes, and dressing. With a fork, he lifted up the turkey and peered underneath. "Where's the ham?" Jerry said. "Isn't there ham this year?"

"Of course there's ham? But that's not for the Hanukkah celebrators?" Although she was explaining things to him, she made every sentence sound like a question he was supposed to answer. "Ham for Hanukkah? Ha! Isn't that ridiculous?" She turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Jerry reached out to grab her arm. "There's been a mistake. I'm not a 'Hanukkah celebrator' and I'd like some ham. Please."

The server sighed. "You're Jewish?" She whispered the word 'Jewish' as if it shouldn't be spoken aloud. "You people don't eat ham? Right? So I brought you a Hanukkah celebrator's plate? No pictures of mistletoe on the edges? And no ham?"

Jerry blinked up at the woman. "What makes you think I'm Jewish?" In reaction to the server's whispering, Jerry spoke the word 'Jewish' more loudly than usual.

"Your name? Jerry? As in Seinfeld? It's sort of obvious." She was twisting a chunk of hair around her fingers.

"I... I am not Jewish." Jerry lifted his plate up, as if to exchange it for one containing ham. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he laughed.

"Are you sure you're not...?" She held out a hand to fill in the blank.

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Because I've never seen you at church?" The finger twisted into the hair was turning purple from lack of blood flow.

"Hey, I may like to sleep in on Sundays but I'm not Jewish! Even if my name is Jerry! Could I please get some ham?"

As bad as it was to be mistaken for a Jew, actually being Jewish at the Dillon Community Christ- Holiday Dinner was even worse.

After Pastor Grady had said the official grace and the announcement about the time of Santa's arrival had been made, the mayor invited the Ginsburg family to the front of the room.

"Thank you for joining us at our first Dillon Community _Holiday_ Dinner," Mayor Rodell smiled at all five members of the Ginsburg family. "I think everyone here joins me in welcoming you here today and in looking forward to you lighting our menorah!" The mayor gestured to the crowd and there was scattered applause.

"We have the menorah right here and a lighter and I guess there are... prayers y'all say while you do it?" The mayor smiled again. "Just let us know what you need..."

Michael and Rose Ginsburg whispered to each other.

"Is there a problem?" the mayor asked.

"No, no, we appreciate everything you've done," Michael said. "It's just that Hanukkah is actually over and so we don't need to light any candles or say any prayers. We're really just here to enjoy dinner and be a part of the community."

Mayor Rodell covered the microphone with her hand and took a step closer to the Ginsburgs. She smiled the smile of someone who knew she was under scrutiny by a room full of voters, many of whom had been against this idea from the start, and when she spoke it was through gritted teeth. "We're trying to do something nice here, to be inclusive and _sensitive_. It's a gesture, a _caring_ gesture. Can you just accept it in the spirit in which it was meant and light a couple of candles? Would that be such an imposition?"

Michael and Rose exchanged a look. Michael held his hand out for the lighter. "Of course not. I'm happy to light the candles."

The mayor stood to one side, watching as Michael lit the candles and spoke a few words in Hebrew. After he'd given her the lighter back, he and the family turned to leave.

"Oh, don't leave yet," the mayor said. "We have a surprise for the kids! Now, kids, we all know that because you're Jewish, Santa skips over your house and doesn't bring you any presents! That doesn't seem fair, does it? So we have a Hanukkah present for each of you!" Mayor Rodell reached down into a box at her feet and pulled out three packages, each wrapped in red wrapping paper covered with pictures of candles in wreaths.

After prompting from Rose, the children accepted the presents. "And after you've finished opening your presents, you can show us all how to play with these!" The mayor upended the box, dropping dreidels and foil wrapped coins onto the floor.

And that's about when things really got out of hand.

You see, thanks to wikipedia, the committee had learned that at Hanukkah it was common to serve foods cooked in oil to celebrate the miracle of the lamp oil lasting eight days. And, really, knowing that, what better way to have a joint Christmas/Hanukkah celebration than to serve turkey that had been deep-fried?

Perhaps it would have been fine, except they'd also learned that the most appropriate oil for Hanukkah celebrations was olive oil. Olive oil has a much lower smoke point than other oils and it isn't usually used for deep frying turkeys but even so the events that followed might have been avoided except for one person. Guess who?

If you said Waverly, then congratulations! You've been paying attention.

Waverly had entered the kitchen to do her volunteer shift. Buddy Garrity, who was in charge of the deep fryers, called out to her, "Happy Kwanzaa!"

While she was lecturing him on the mistake of making the assumption that she celebrated Kwanzaa instead of Christmas just because she was African-American, the temperatures on the deep fryers began to climb. With Buddy Garrity caught up defending himself against Waverly's tirade, there was nobody available to deal with the situation and the fryers began to smoke.

The first person to notice the smoke was Tyra. She'd just been debating whether or not she could pull the fire alarm to get out of an hour of dishing out corn onto plates and the smoke seemed like a Christmas gift. "Fire!" she shrieked, and took off out the back door.

The call of fire alerted the members of the Dillon Volunteer Fire Department--all of them eating their Christ- Holiday Dinners--and they leaped up, knocking chairs over as they went. The captain was first up, and headed towards the kitchen. But unfortunately, on the way, he stepped on one of the dreidels that the mayor had dumped on the floor.

The fire captain tripped on the dreidel and fell forward, landing on the end of one of the tables. Plates full of food flew up into the air and landed all over the place, including one that somehow managed to land directly on the mayor's head. Upside down.

Although Buddy Garrity brought the temperature down on the deep fryers before anything actually caught on fire, outside of the kitchen, things couldn't be so easily brought under control.

The table where the football players sat was the epicenter for the chaos. Tim had been hit in the chest with one of the flying plates. Steve, a defensive end, laughed so hard it looked like he might fall off his chair.

Tim glared at him. "Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" He scooped as much of the food on his chest into his hand as he could and he threw it in Steve's direction. It hit Smash.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Riggins?" Smash pushed his chair back from the table and grabbed his own plate.

Time lifted a hand to his face to cover a grin. "Sorry about that, Smash, I wasn't tryin' to hit you. I missed Steve." He snorted with laughter. "I really am truly sorry about _that_."

Smash gestured at the mess down his front. "Oh, so this here is all Steve's fault, is it?"

Tim struggled to keep his face serious. "Yes, Smash, I do believe it is Steve's fault that you're wearing turkey on the front of your shorts right about now."

Smash stood up slowly and deliberately, picking up his plate as he rose. He turned and dumped it on Steve's head. While Steve sat sputtering in surprise and anger, Smash picked up Steve's plate and tossed the food at Tim.

Of course, the food thrown by Smash splashed some of the other players and soon a general food fight broke out that involved all the players and caused collateral damage to nearby tables.

At one point Smash noticed that Matt had somehow remained suspiciously clean. He thought it'd be great to hit Matt with some nice, orange, mashed sweet potatoes, right in the middle of his pristine shirt.

"Hey, Matty," Smash called. "Go long!"

Matt dove to one side and the sweet potatoes landed right in the cleavage of one of Santa's elves.

Smash sauntered over to the outraged cheerleader. "Now, darlin', you know the Smash didn't mean to get you all dirty. How about if the Smash help get you all cleaned up?"

Unfortunately for 'the Smash', Waverly had come out of the kitchen just in time to hear his offer. She hauled off and punched him in the eye. "We're through!" She stormed off.

At that moment Coach, still in his Santa Claus outfit, came running over to the table. "What in the hell has gotten into you people?" He tore off his beard and gestured in the air with it.

"'Show up,' I said. 'Dress in nice shirts and pants,' I said. 'Make sure you compliment the ladies on their cooking,' I said. Did I really have to specify 'no food fights'?" He stood staring at the unresponsive players for a moment and then raised his voice until it was so loud that Buddy Garrity probably heard it in the kitchen over the sound of the deep fryers. "I said did I really have to specify 'no food fights'?"

The football players straightened up and answered in one voice, "No, sir!"

It took over a week to clean up the community hall. Smash missed two weeks of football practice, since a running back isn't much good if he can't see the ball. Most of Dillon's children are now dubious about the existence of Santa, thanks to Coach's unmasking. The future of the Dillon Community Christ- Holiday dinner remains to be seen.

But worst of all? The Dillon Community Easter Egg Hunt is only four months away.

 


End file.
